Cheated – lied to – stolen from and rejected
N 21°02'09.5'' E 105°51'01.1''
Date:
29.10.2016 until 30.10.2016
Day: 491- 492
Country:
Vietnam
Province:
Delta of the Red River
Location:
Hanoi
Latitude N:
21°02’09.5”
Longitude E:
105°51’01.1”
Daily kilometers:
Covered 150 km by car
Total kilometers:
20,162 km
Soil condition:
Asphalt / gravel
Total altitude meters:
54.661 m
Sunrise:
05:57
Sunset:
5:23 pm to 5:22 pm
Temperature day max:
23°C
Temperature day min:
19°C
(Photos of the diary entry can be found at the end of the text).
“I drive 24,000 kilometers a month. 24,000 kilometers. Do you understand?” brags the bus driver as he speeds along the sometimes poor road. Because I have been given the seat next to him, I am forced to listen to the man’s barely comprehensible English gibberish. “24,000 kilometers!” he repeats the number so that I really understand what a hero I’m sitting next to. This figure is completely utopian, as it takes us four hours to cover the 160 kilometers from Mai Chau to Hanoi. Even if the man were to drive 30 days a month, he would have to cover 800 kilometers a day. According to my calculations, a bus can travel no more than 300 to 400 kilometers a day. At least not on the small roads in this region. “24,000 kilometers is a lot,” he continues to boast, which is why I already regret accepting his offer and settling down in the special seat. Show-off, I think to myself and look out of the window so as not to give the man any reason to listen to any more figures. Just a few days ago, we took Manh Do from Mai Chau to the Laotian border. It was a fast ride, but compared to today’s, it was almost a snail’s pace. “Oooohhhhhh!” yell some passengers in the front of the bus as the crazy bus driver overtakes a truck for the umpteenth time in a blind bend and another bus thunders towards us at the critical point.at the very last second, our driver pulls the wheel around, forces the truck next to us to brake and pulls in ahead of it. I should actually say something now, I think, but I stay quiet for the time being. “He’ll fall asleep!” Tanja’s warning wakes me up an hour later, sitting right behind me with Ajaci. “Better you stay awake Denis and have a chat with the man,” she suggests. Even though I don’t feel the slightest desire to talk to the moron, I speak to him. We don’t reach the city center of Hanoi until 21:00. “Let’s have a beer together,” the bus driver invites us now. “Not today. I’m too tired. Maybe next time,” I try to decline diplomatically.
Once again we check in with Ajaci at the homestay where we stay when we are in Hanoi. Because all the cheaper rooms were supposedly fully booked, we had to book a larger, more expensive room. Tanja managed to negotiate the inflated price of US$ 35 down to US$ 22. However, without breakfast. Since what they call breakfast in this place consists of a mostly stale, soft white bread, a fried egg dripping with cheap grease and an absolutely awful coffee, no loss. “Our room has a deluxe shower”, we were told, but it turns out that the so-called deluxe shower is located in the corridor and is also used by other guests. The switch for the room light is also located in the corridor, so that at night you have to walk in the dark to the stairwell to find the switch with a keen sense of touch. Never mind, I think. The main thing is that we have found a place to stay where our dog is accepted. “Phew, I’m really hungry,” Tanja moans after we have brought Ajaci and our only bag into the room. “Well then, let’s go and eat something,” I reply, also hungry.
“We’ll change to a cheaper room tomorrow morning as agreed,” we say to the owner of the homestay, about to leave the house. “I’m sorry. The rooms are all fully booked,” he replies with a grin. “What? It was agreed that we could move,” Tanja replies. “I’m really sorry, but the cheaper rooms are full.” “Then we’ll move to another hotel,” Tanja replies. “Um, it could be… I think there’s a cheaper room available on the fourth floor. I’d forgotten about that,” he suddenly remembers, which tells us once and for all that the family had foisted one of the expensive rooms on their regular guests in order to earn more money. “But if you want to check in at 12:00,” our host says with sudden aggression. “We’ve been invited to a party tomorrow morning and won’t be able to check our things in until 13:00 at the earliest. But I already told your wife that on the phone when I booked with you yesterday. She assured me of that,” says Tanja. “If they don’t move at the specified time, they have to stay in the room. We don’t accept check-ins after 12:00,” he remains firm, raising his voice to a borderline level. When we offer to move our dog and luggage to another room at 9:30 am, he refuses. “Our guests are still asleep at this time.” “We’ll eat first and talk later,” we decide.
21:30. We are the last guests. Because we always enjoyed our meals in this restaurant, we went there again. The waitress, who speaks perfect English, greets us cheerfully and takes our order. 20 minutes later, we are sitting in front of a small, half-filled starter plate. “Is there anything else coming?” I ask the waitress after a while. “Uh, why?” she asks, a little confused. “Well, this portion won’t even feed a small child. It’s marked as a main course on the menu and is correspondingly expensive.” “I’m sorry, but these are our portions.” “We’ve been to your restaurant three times now. Even if your portions weren’t exactly generous, this is outrageous. The chef probably didn’t have any more at that hour and made two meals out of one,” Tanja interjects, pointing to her plate. “I’m just the waitress. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about that.” “Well then, please get the manager.” “Sorry, but he’s just left.” “Then call him,” Tanja persists, whereupon the young woman taps a number into her smartphone. “Well, everything seems to be going wrong today,” I say, my stomach growling with hunger. “The chef miscalculated the quantity, so my boss has decided to give you a 20 percent discount.” “If the chef only served half the original portion, 20 percent is in no way enough. Now take a look at the little bit of food. To be reasonably full, we would have to order at least five to seven portions like that,” we say indignantly. “What do you want me to do?” “It’s all right. It’s not your fault. Please tell your boss that you’ve lost two customers. We certainly won’t be back,” Tanja replies. In just a few minutes, the miniration is consumed. We leave the restaurant extremely unsatisfied.
Back in our homestay, we continue the check-out time discussion. “You can’t just go into the room and move our dog. We don’t know how he will react when a complete stranger comes into the room,” we explain. Apart from that, we don’t want to get him used to it, as he is developing watchdog qualities. If we allowed strangers in and out of our hotel room, he would never look after our things. “Either they move at 12:00 or they stay in the expensive room,” the homestay owner insists. “If you treat your guests like that, I’ll write a review in Trip Adviser,” Tanja counters, whereupon the man screws up his face, storms towards her and suddenly roars like a lion. Up to this point, I stayed out of the tiresome discussion, but what is too much is too much. “Control your voice,” I interject in a sharp tone. “Your wife is an outrageous creature. You should control your wife!” he yells at me so that his strands of saliva land on my face. Should I just knock him out now, I think to myself. “Don’t you ever shout at me again!” I yell at the guesthouse owner. “Denis, stay out of it. I’ll handle it,” Tanja tries to calm me down to keep control of the situation. “Okay. We’ll check out tomorrow morning and go to another hotel. We will never visit your homestay again. Apart from that, I’ll warn other tourists about them,” says Tanja in a matter-of-fact tone, turns on her heel and leaves the man standing there. He yells after her and it looks as if he wants to get his hands on Tanja. Tense as a panther, I run alongside Tanja, ready to protect her from this unpredictable bastard at all times.
6:00 in the morning. “Did you sleep reasonably well?” asks Tanja. “I didn’t sleep a wink. I was just too excited. I’ll be glad when we leave this inhospitable, outrageous house,” I reply, dog-tired. “I’m going to the park with Ajaci. You can rest until then,” says Tanja, gets dressed and leaves the room with our dog. 7:00 am. Tanja comes into the room. You won’t believe what’s just happened to me.” “Please don’t make it too exciting. The excitement from yesterday is still in my bones.” “A moped driver snatched my smartphone out of my hand.” “What?” I can’t believe it. Is it gone?” I ask, jumping out of bed in shock. “No. I held on to it.” “You held on to it?” “Yes. The guy came rushing up behind me and grabbed my smartphone. But I’d had a bad feeling the whole time and was relatively tense. That’s why I held it in an iron grip. When the thief pulled it, he lost control of his moped, lurched a few meters and crashed.” “He crashed!” I ask, stunned. “Yes, it knocked him down. Then a passer-by immediately came and helped him get back on the bike. ‘A thief! He’s a thief!” I shouted, but couldn’t explain to the helper what had really happened because of the language barrier. Before I knew it, the thief was back on his bike and rattling away.” “You’re just great. Ha, ha, ha. That’s really fantastic. You showed him, that bastard. Ha, ha, ha, ha. It’s a good thing I wasn’t there. I would have held him down and taken him to the police.” “Who knows how that would have turned out? The police are totally corrupt.” “That’s right. Well, maybe it taught the robber a lesson?” I ponder, and although the experience wasn’t nice for Tanja, her exceptionally good reaction makes me feel a little better. Then we pack our bag, click Ajaci on the lead and leave our room. The owner of the homestay tries to save what can be saved for her husband, who is fortunately not present. However, nothing can be saved. Without saying goodbye, we leave the house of the aggressive, greedy, unfriendly and unpredictable behind us.
We take a cab to Manh Dos’ apartment. As it’s in a high-rise building and we can’t read the writing, I call Manh Do. “Sorry Manh Do, we’re earlier than planned. There’s a restaurant on the other side of the street. Can we wait there for another hour or two and come back later?” “I’ll come and get you,” replies Manh Do in a friendly voice. A few minutes pass and Manh Do appears. “I still have to pick up my father and uncle. We live over there. Take the elevator to the eighth floor. Moon is already waiting for you.”
We are indeed the first guests. Moon serves us fruit, which we devour ravenously. After an hour, the apartment slowly fills up. Manh Do is also back and introduces us to his relatives and friends. Then it’s off to the restaurant near the tower block. Terrible karaoke screams echo towards us. Nobody seems to mind. Karaoke is obviously part of a good Vietnamese party, even if it’s only 10:00 in the morning. Manh Do seats us at one of the tables. Sitting opposite us are Mr. Tien, the TV boss, and the wife of Manh Dos Exboss, the owner of Monkey Island. I wonder if she’s on good terms with us, as her husband also tried to rip us off a few weeks ago and we left his resort early as a result. At least she doesn’t let on. Manh Do gives a speech, puts a ring on his wife Moon’s finger. Tears of emotion roll down her cheeks. Then the meal is open. Around 80 guests are delighted. “Manh Do? Is there MSG in it?”, I ask to be on the safe side, as my body reacts badly to flavor enhancers and was the reason why Tanja and I often got sick at the Nature Lodge. “Oh, Denis. I hadn’t thought of that. I’m sorry,” I hear. Not letting my disappointment show, I poke around in a green vegetable and drink a few beers, my stomach growling loudly. That’s one way to lose weight, I think. Then, after two hours, most of the guests are very drunk and the party is over. As we say goodbye, the wife of Manh Dos ex-boss hugs us as if she were our best friend. “When you’re back in Hanoi, you have to come and see us. We would love to invite them,” she warbles. I certainly won’t fall for such an invitation a second time. We had already practiced that with your husband on Monkey Island, it goes through my head. The woman laughs and smacks a kiss on both cheeks, as is certainly completely unusual in Vietnam. “Thank you very much for coming. I hope you enjoyed our celebration and had a nice stay in Hanoi,” says Manh Do. “We wish you good luck in your new apartment and every success in Hanoi,” I answer his question evasively, as I don’t want to trick him and the moment is certainly totally inappropriate to tell him about our recent experiences.
Standing on the side of the road, we try to get a cab. Some drivers just turn up their noses when they see Ajaci and speed on. Others only want to take us with them if we pay a considerable surcharge. But as always, we are lucky and find a driver who likes dogs and takes us to the hotel that Tanja booked on the Internet last night. “There must have been a misunderstanding. Dogs are not allowed in our hotel,” apologizes the receptionist. Exhausted and now extremely hungry, I settle down on the sofa next to the reception desk. “So now I’m really getting too much. I had written them an email and asked explicitly about our dog. I then received a confirmation from their hotel. But to make the booking really secure, I also gave them a call. During our phone call, they also confirmed that their hotel was dog-friendly,” says Tanja politely but firmly. After Tanja showed Ajaci’s reference book, had a clarifying phone call with the manager and promised him that our white German shepherd wouldn’t sleep in the bed with us, we were allowed to check in…
If you would like to find out more about our adventures, you can find our books under this link.
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